All The Skills

"Oh boy, oh boy!" Joy practically bounced from foot to foot in excitement, green-tinged canine teeth poking out from below her lips. “We get to fight scourgelings? Oh boy!”

Was it Arthur's imagination, or were those teeth longer and sharper than before?

He didn't have time to think about it, nor did he share in her excitement. His hands were sweaty on the hilt of the knife and shovel handle. As the scourgelings advanced, all he could think was: I'm not prepared for this.

He was a dragon rider. When he fought scourgelings, it was supposed to be on the back of a dragon—his dragon. One that was currently too small to carry him, but still roared out a challenge as if it were hungry and scourgelings were the only thing on the menu.

The scourgelings moved forward in a motion more like a skitter than a gallop. Though their bodies were shaped roughly like that of a horse, the joints were wrongly proportioned. They scuttled up the hill right toward them. The front pincers on their mouths clicked in anticipation.

But they were traveling uphill to meet them, and that put them at a disadvantage.

Cressida's flame bear, Wicker, let out a crackling roar and barreled toward them. It met the leading scourgeling halfway down the hill and swept one large paw out.

Wicker, a being made of flame, didn't have any physical momentum. But when his paw struck the chest of the scourgeling, a blast of fire shot out. The scourgeling was blown backward, singed, and rolling down the hill with a high-pitched, piercing whistle.

Joy followed a few moments later, crashing down on the scourgeling to the right, trying to dig green-tinged claws into flesh.

The scourgeling reared back on two of its legs and menaced Joy with its clicking pincers. But it hadn't drawn back far enough. One of Joy's claws caught a scale and dug in, leaving a shallow groove behind. Joy snapped her teeth at another one who had wheeled around to try to engage with her.

That's when Brixaby darted in, using his Flying Sprint skill.

When he hatched, there had been some debate about whether Brixaby was an extremely dark purple dragon, or something new entirely. At times like this, Arthur was certain he was purple because his four wings, along with his dexterous flying skills, gave him supernatural dexterity in the air.

Brixaby’s claws raked down the front of the head, where the face would normally be. But, unlike Joy, he didn't leave a mark behind.

The two terrible pincers snapped together around him, like a trap closing over prey. Brixaby was in the middle. However, the pincers seemed to flow through the little dragon's body and closed together in empty air.

With a quick buzz of his wings, Brixaby shot straight upward. He had used Arthur’s Phase In, Phase Out card to escape.

"Their eyes are shielded!" Brixaby boomed out, frustrated.

"I was afraid of that," Arthur muttered but had no more time to think before the remaining scourgeling—which hadn’t been slowed by the dragons' or flame bear's attack—was almost upon them.

"Arthur!" Cressida yelled, stepping toward him.

He saw the intent in her eyes so clearly it was as if she had spoken them aloud. She planned to encase Arthur in one of her bubble shields.

"No," Arthur snapped, ignoring her to meet the scourgeling directly. He dropped the knife back into his Personal Space because, up close, he saw the plate scale protection over the scourgeling’s body was at least half an inch thick. No surprise that Brixaby wasn’t able to penetrate it. He had no idea how Joy had.

Blunt force would have to do. Taking a grip on his shovel, he swung forward with all his might. His strength attributes were a little higher than average. But as he swung, his Shovel Tool Proficiency kicked in. He landed a perfect strike against the creature's throat with the flat of the spade side.

It was enough to put a dent into one of the dark chitin scales and halt the thing's momentum. Not good enough.

So, Arthur grabbed a small sack of flour from his Personal Space, along with a burning brand.

One of the many useful things about his Personal Space: Since time stopped there, and things that went in burning remained burning.

He threw the flour and the brand at the same time, letting his Throwing skill guide his accuracy.

The flour puffed out of the cheesecloth he had previously poked full of holes just for this occasion. And the fire caught.

The explosion was as intense as it was hot. Arthur quickly used his Phase In, Phase Out card to keep from getting caught in the blooming fire.

His mana consumption sank like a stone — thousands of little particles flying through where his body should have been.

That was why he had his Mana Amendment card. Linked with Phase in, Phase out, it boosted the amount of phasing time he had. Originally, it had been ten seconds in a rolling hour. Now, it was thirty. Plenty of time for the quick flash explosion to pass through him.

He expected the scourgeling to be badly burned at a minimum. At best, perhaps dead.

He didn't expect a dark, whistling form to charge right out of the explosion, half obscured by lingering flour and smoke. Arthur had only phased back for a bare second before he found himself phasing again just to step aside and through the scourgeling charge.

The creature was badly singed, but still on its feet and whistling in high-pitched rage.

Arthur heard Cressida yell something from behind, but couldn't focus on it.

Time for something else from his bag of tricks. He’d wanted to try this in a more controlled environment, but… oh well.

His Metal Shot card was part of his heart deck, and was available to him on an instinctive level. Lifting one chainmail-clad arm, he pointed it at the creature. In his mind's eye, he had perfect control over the rivets, just as if they were an extension of himself. It took a moment of thought to unlink the already loose rivets from each other. Another precious second as the creature wheeled around to face him to charge a handful of rivets with mana.

The rivets shot off with plink-plink-plink sounds and struck the scourgeling full on where its face should be. This close, Arthur saw only horizontal slits for eyes, and two more vertical slits for nostrils. There was no mouth at all, likely just as shielded for some reason.

Arthur leaned on his Throwing Accuracy skill to enhance his shot. That, and the fact he was dangerously close to the scourgeling, allowed one of the five rivets to strike the sweet spot just within the horizontal slit.

The creature must have had an eye under there somewhere because it reared back with a whistle that sounded like a shriek, and Arthur once again had to use his Phase In, Phase Out skill to keep from being trampled.

Unfortunately, he misjudged his timing and phased back in just as the creature whipped around a second time. Its hind end crashed into Arthur and sent him tumbling.

"Arthur!" Cressida yelled again.

A moment later Wicker the flame bear was there, summoned out of nowhere, and struck the creature on its singed, scaly hide.

Arthur wheezed, sitting up and clutching his ribs. He took a look around the battlefield for the first time, realizing that three of the scourgelings were down and dead. His was the only one left standing.

Cressida came to his side, her expression full of worry. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. I have Blunt Force damage resistance."

Which was a good thing, or else he might be looking at cracked ribs.

Arthur stood, ignoring a twinge from his side anyway — and readied himself to pepper the creature with more rivets.

It might not be fatal - he doubted he could punch through that thick chitin covering, but it might distract and enrage the scourgeling enough to cause it to make a mistake.

He didn't get that chance because Joy came in like an avenging, venomous force of nature – Wicker ducked just in time to keep from burning her, Cressida’s power acting in sync with her dragon so smoothly it was as if they practiced it.

Joy raked her claws over the scourgeling’s back before flapping away. This cut, unlike the others, had been deep, and the necrotic lesion spread rapidly. It wasn't long before the scourgeling succumbed to its injuries.

Arthur looked on eagerly as it fell, then frowned when he didn't see the characteristic glow around the scourgeling’s chest. No cards or even card shards to harvest.

Ignoring Cressida trying to fuss at him, he went to the edge of the hill and looked down. The remains of the other three scourgelings lay in different spots on the side of the slope.

And, thanks to Joy's brand of poison… 'remains' was the appropriate word.

'Hunks of rotting flesh' was more accurate. There was barely anything recognizable remaining, and no tell-tale glow.

Brixaby came in for a landing on Arthur's shoulder. He looked disgruntled, too.

"Did Joy's poison destroy the cards and shards inside the scourgelings?" Arthur asked. That would be inconvenient during scourge eruptions.

"No," the dragon said sourly. "There was nothing to harvest."

"What?"

But Arthur didn't get out another word before Cressida broke in, her voice high with stress. "Brixaby, are you just ignoring the fact that your rider put himself in danger? You could have lost him! Arthur, how could you?"

Both swung around to stare at her.

Joy just looked between them all, troubled.

"What do you mean?" Arthur asked.

"You just went after a scourgeling with a shovel!" she said. "Why didn't you let me protect you with my mana shield?"

"Cressida, I’m fine," Arthur said. "I was safe. You know that I have—" he stopped, took another look at the stressed, fearful expression on Cressida's face, and stopped. "Wait," he came to a realization. "Wait, you don't know about my resistances, do you?"

He had always meant to tell her everything. The full extent of his powers. Not only was she one of his retinue riders, she was probably his best friend. But… things had become strained and awkward between them right after she learned the truth of his history. And afterward… well, there was never any telling when they were being watched by the Free Hive Council.

"Cressida," he said, "I have several skills to help me out. Toughened Skin, and Blunt Force Damage resistance. You’ve seen me Phase In and Phase Out —"

"Yes, for a second or two at a time. But if the fight went long... Arthur, you have no true combat card."

"I just took the eye out of a scourgeling," Arthur said, feeling slightly miffed. “And I have a moderate healing card just in case.”

“You sure do have a lot of cards, for someone who just got his first combat card ever,” Joy observed.

Brixaby snorted. "You should have seen the duel against his annoying cousin. Granted, I was in the egg at the time, but Arthur told me enough about it, and I met the man." His dark muzzle wrinkled up in disgust. "He has a combat-focused card, and Arthur still beat him at his own game. He is imaginative and uses his skills in unexpected ways. Didn’t you see his flour bomb?"

Cressida hesitated. “Yes, but—"

"Oh, was that what that explosion was?" Joy said, "Do you have another one?"

"I have a bucketful, but not that many burning brands," Arthur admitted. He looked at Cressida. "I can take care of myself."

"That shouldn’t be your job," she insisted, though her denial sounded a bit weak to his ears. "It's supposed to be mine and Joy's duty to protect the Legendary Rider. Especially for these skirmishes. You have to save yourself for the big fight, and that’s probably what’s to come."

That got his attention. "What do you mean?"

Cressida waved towards the beasts. "These are the first challenges, the manifestations, that the dungeoneer put into place. The battles always start out small, but then they grow in strength and power."

Arthur opened his mouth to ask if she was sure, but then he took a second glance at the nearest scourgeling. The one he had helped down.

A dark mist was starting to roll off the thing, as if it were slowly disintegrating in midair.

"What’s wrong with it? No, Brix, get away from that thing," he barked, as the little dragon buzzed over to have a closer look.

"I am a dragon," Brixaby threw a disgusted look over his shoulder. "There’s nothing from this scourgeling that can harm me."

Joy cocked her head to the side. "I think what Cressida means is it’s not a scourgeling at all."

"It might have been, or something very similar to it that was used as a blueprint," Cressida confirmed. "The dungeoneer has full authority over what he put inside this place."

It finally clicked for Arthur, and he glanced back to the body of the scourgeling which was disintegrating more and more by the second, the motes floating up into the air and disappearing. He’d thought that the others were featureless lumps due to Joy’s poison. He’d been mistaken. "So they aren’t real," he rubbed his chest. "They felt real."

"The danger is real," she said with emphasis. Then she scowled. "Which is why I was so concerned when you strode in there with no regard for your safety."

"I’m fine," Arthur said, "I’m not going to be the type of Legendary rider who will sit back and let others fight for him."

Cressida looked like she was about to argue again, but Brixaby made a disgusted sound. "If there is nothing to harvest from the scourgeling, then what is the point? Where are the combat cards kept?"

All eyes went to Cressida.

She shrugged. "I can only guess."

"Then guess," Arthur said. "You’re the only one with dungeon experience."

She chewed on her lower lip and said, "We’ll know for certain soon, but… well, you know how I said there are different kinds of dungeons? Some are protected by tricks and traps. Some have a pathway you walk where you’re ambushed by enemies and must fight your way through. I think that this one is one of the third types. The wave types. It would make sense if we’re given a zone on higher ground, and I don’t think that we’re meant to go through that forest." She nodded to the dark forest which looked thick enough to need someone with a Machete Proficiency skill to cut through. Arthur had no idea how the large scourgelings had walked from that foliage.

"Wave types?" Joy asked, looking around. "Like an ocean wave?"

"No, dearest. Waves of enemies. If I’m right, these will disperse and will be replaced by more enemies. Harder ones to kill… and probably more numerous."

Her words struck through them, and everybody went still.

"What happens at the end?" Arthur asked Cressida. "How many waves are there?"

"I don’t know. It depends on—"

"The dungeoneer?" Arthur asked, and she gave a sickly smile.

"The usual number is ten waves. And my guess is the survivors will be rewarded with access to the dungeon rewards. In this case, that means the combat cards. I hope."

Arthur hesitated for a painful second. He didn’t want to ask the next question, but he would never forgive himself if he didn’t and… something catastrophic happened.

"So, what do you say?" he asked, looking from one to another. "Do we press on?"

"We must," Cressida said, quietly, "I checked, first thing. There’s no exit."

A sinking sensation, like a heavy stone, gathered in his stomach, but Arthur kept his face calm and nodded. He didn’t want to leave, anyway.

"Joy, Brixaby, form up in front of us. Let’s get ready for the next wave."

The last of the scourgelings disintegrated. And as the final motes dissipated, new whistles struck through the forest.

This time, six of the horse-sized scourgelings stepped out.

At least I have more tricks up my sleeve, Arthur thought. Because I might need them all before we're done.

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